In A Day Or Two

Chapter 2: The Walk

Morning passes in a blur, and I haven't slept a wink. My only real accomplishment today is regretting that I went to that party last night. Regret's supposed to hit first, but apparently, my hangover got priority seating. My head throbs like it's auditioning for a rock band, and yet—despite the migraine—I can't stop thinking about her.

She's like an unfinished sentence in my head.
A girl who doesn't belong in this town, if she ever had a choice in the matter.

If Mr. Jack's gossip is true, then she's running from something. Or someone. An obsessed ex? A stalker? Maybe a crime? But she doesn't look like she could hurt a fly—although, as they say, looks can be deceiving. My brain's got a queue of questions, and only she's got the answers.

With zero sleep, I decide the only cure for this buzzing in my head is fresh air. I wander aimlessly until I hit the shore. And there she is.

Standing by the bay, flip-flops dangling from one hand, the other holding back her hair from the wind. White dress again—seriously, does she have a closet full of them? She looks like she stepped straight out of a daydream.

I take a deep breath, intending to walk away before curiosity drags me into trouble.

"Hey!" A soft voice calls behind me. "You're here again." She's closer now, close enough for me to hear the faint amusement in her tone.

"Uhmm... was just taking my morning walk," I say, trying to sound casual.

She studies me like she's solving a crossword puzzle in her head. Or maybe deciding if I'm worth talking to. I swear I see the corner of her mouth twitch up into a smirk. I raise a brow, sigh, and turn my gaze toward the sea.

"More like a sleepwalk," she says. "Those dark circles under your eyes are obvious, Mister..." She trails off, waiting for my name.

"Francis. I'm Francis." I offer my hand.

"I'm Xianon—but call me Xia." She smiles and shakes my hand twice, quick and light. Definitely not a fan of lingering contact.

Then she looks at me again. Really looks. It's... unnerving. I don't know if she's reading my mind or planning my funeral. She chuckles softly, sits in the sand, and stares out at the water. I hesitate, then sit beside her.

"You wanna ask me something, don't you?" she says without looking at me.

"Uhhh... how—"

She cuts me off. "Everyone does. They just don't have the guts. Even Mr. Jack. But he's too polite to push." She sifts sand through her fingers. "It's okay. You can ask me anything." She turns and gives me a small smile.

I take a deep breath, weighing whether I really want to dive into this. We start small—basic questions, nothing too invasive. She answers without hesitation. We go back and forth for nearly an hour until I finally ask the one that's been burning in my brain since yesterday.

"So, what brings you to our small town?"

"Something's after me," she says instantly.

"Wait—something? Not someone? Like... not a boyfriend or anything?" I avoid saying cops because, if I'm wrong, that's a bad first impression.

"Nope." She tilts her head. "Can I ask you something now?"

"Sure. Shoot."

"If you were a fish, and the water was getting poisonous, would you stay, or would you jump into another world where you still couldn't survive?" She says it with absolute seriousness. God, I hate riddles.

"Well... I'd jump into the different world. Even if I couldn't survive, at least I'd get to see a place I've never been."

She nods, smiles faintly, and stands, brushing sand from her dress. Flip-flops back in hand, she wanders down the shoreline, waves barely touching her toes. Just before stepping into the shed at the edge of the beach, she glances back and smiles.